


That's Not My Name

by bellamybabe



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Based on a Tumblr Post, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-25 23:52:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3829531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellamybabe/pseuds/bellamybabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m a barista and you’re the obnoxious customer who comes through and orders a venti macchiato while talking on the phone the whole time so I misspell your name in increasingly creative ways every day AU” and “I’m a busy businessperson and my barista keeps misspelling my name in increasingly disrespectful ways, honestly, who does this person think they are AU”</p>
            </blockquote>





	That's Not My Name

**Author's Note:**

> So my best friend sent me a screenshot of a section of a tumblr post with a bunch of AU prompts and even though she sent it to me with a different ship in mind, I felt obligated to make this Bellarke because hello how perfect is it??? Also if anyone knows what the original post is, feel free to send me a link to it so I can credit the OP. 
> 
> As usual, this hasn’t been edited. Enjoy!

“Hi, how can I-” 

“Large Caramel Macchiato.” Said the fancy looking businessman in front of Clarke. He had a phone clamped to his ear and immediately went back to speaking into it after he was finished cutting her off. Clarke narrowed her eyes, before quickly rearranging her face into customer service mode. 

“Your name, sir?” The man gives her a look like she inconvenienced him by asking. 

“Bellamy.” He says hurriedly, thrusting a few dollar bills toward her and mumbling something about keeping the change, before he walked over to wait by the pick up counter.  _At least the asshole tips well_ , Clarke thought. She pulled her Sharpie out of her hair and went to write his name on the cup, when she suddenly got an idea and her lips curved into a mischievous smile. She scribbled something onto the cup, passing it onto her coworker, before turning to her next customer. 

 

* * *

 

Bellamy wordlessly accepted his coffee and walked briskly out of the shop. It wasn’t until he was seated on subway that he noticed what the barista had written on his cup next to his order.  _Borgias._  He furrowed his brow in confusion and chalked it up to the loud din in the coffee shop and the general chaos that came with the morning rush. 

He thought nothing of it until he returned the next day and ordered his coffee, receiving his cup with a once again completely misspelled name. This time it read  _Beehive._ He frowned at the cup and wondered how she’d managed to mishear something completely different from one day to the next. He didn’t have much time to dwell on it, though, because it was his stop and he had to focus on weaving his way through the crowd in front of him.

 

* * *

 

Clarke was beginning to look forward to the asshole that rudely ordered his macchiato every day because she had a lot of fun coming up with new ways to botch his name. It seemed that he’d started catching on, because after a week or so, he would actually remove the cell phone that Clarke had assumed was surgically attached to his head, and slowly pronounce his name for her to write down. She’d always nod appreciatively and give him a bright smile before writing something ridiculous on his cup. It had gotten to the point where even her coworkers knew what she would do and would pitch in suggestions, a few of which she’d used. 

It was a day like any other when Bellamy walked in without a cell phone pressed to his ear, which took Clarke by surprise. She didn’t even know that his left arm was capable of being held straight and not bent up to his head. She gave him her best customer service smile and asked what he wanted, becoming irritated when he  _still_  managed to cut her off, despite not having a phone call to use as an excuse this time. She quickly schooled her annoyed expression back into a pleasant one and was about to ask his name again when he spoke (seriously, what was this guy’s issue with cutting people off?)

“My name is Bellamy. B-E-L-L-” But this time Clarke was the one to cut him off. 

“Thank you, sir. That’ll be $6.95.” She said brightly as he handed over a ten and told her to keep the change. He walked slowly to the pick up counter, eyeing her suspiciously. Clarke felt his eyes on her and made sure her expression gave nothing away. She could hear Raven trying not to laugh at today’s misspell and turned to her next customer. 

Bellamy accepted his cup, but took the time to look at it before he walked out. He pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation when he saw the words “ _Bell end”_ staring back at him. He was about to go and give the barista a piece of his mind when his phone rang and his boss was frantically shouting through the phone that he needed Bellamy right away. He sighed and double timed it out of the shop, regretting that it was Friday and he wouldn’t get to confront the blonde at the counter until Monday. 

 

* * *

 

The following Monday, Clarke was in a mood. She’d paid her mom a visit over the weekend and it was catastrophic, to say the least. It ended with several broken dishes, a door that had nearly been slammed off its hinges, a domestic disturbance call from one of the neighbors, and Clarke walking five miles to a bus station with all her luggage and an oath to never speak to her mother again. Suffice to say, she was not happy. 

When the Asshole walked in on Monday morning, he had a determined look on his face that Clarke had to stop herself from groaning at. She hadn’t pegged him as the type to say anything to her about it and all she could do was wonder why he’d picked today of all days to do it. She nudged Raven in the side and was met with a look of pure amusement that made Clarke smile. It  _was_  a pretty ridiculous situation. 

Clarke gave him her customer smile and take his order, but he cut her off. She had to resist the urge to give him a verbal lashing for his habit because she liked having a job and being able to pay rent. 

“Why do you keep misspelling my name?” Bellamy demanded, brows furrowed together. Clarke heard Raven snort from behind her and had to bite the inside of her cheek from doing so as well. She put on a look of innocence.

“What do you mean, sir?” She asked him.

“I  _mean_ , I come in here every day and get the same thing and every day you spell my name wrong.” He said, sounding exasperated.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.” Clarke said, her face looking genuinely apologetic. She had high school theater to thank for that. “But as you can see, there’s a very long line and we’re unfortunately understaffed today. If you step out of line and wait until we’re less crowded, I’d be more than happy to help you out with your issue.” Clarke said, knowing that he’d never go for it. 

Bellamy narrowed his eyes at her in suspicion and anger, but finally relented when the customers in line behind him started to voice their frustrations with him taking so long. He begrudgingly gave his order and walked over to the other counter, glaring at the linoleum under his feet. When he was presented with a cup that read “ _Bellhop”_  he clenched his teeth and called his office, telling them that something urgent had come up and that he wouldn’t be coming in until lunch time. He then walked to the back of the shop and took a seat in a discreet corner, grabbed the book he kept in his messenger bag, and waited for the line to dwindle. 

After a few hours, Bellamy looked up to see that the coffee shop had emptied out. He stood, tossed his cup and marched over to the counter, earning a surprised look from the barista. She exchanged a look with her coworker, who stood next to her like a bodyguard, before meeting Bellamy’s eye. She gave him her trademark smile and asked how she could help him. Bellamy rolled his eyes. 

“Cut the crap, princess.” He said snidely. Her eyes widened with fury at the nickname and she subconsciously took a step forward. 

“Princess?” She asked, her voice taking on an angry edge. Her eyes flashed with murder and Bellamy almost recoiled in fear, but forced himself to stand his ground. 

“Yeah,  _princess_.” He said, his voice filled with venom, as he gestured to where her name was drawn on her apron and had the outline of a crown over it. She looked down briefly, before meeting his eyes once more. She looked contemplative for a moment, before crossing her arms. 

“Fine.” She said, everything about her posture and tone challenging him. Bellamy mimicked her stance and they glared at each other for a few moments, before he broke the silence. 

“Can you stop misspelling my name? I’m pretty sick of it and it’s really fuckin’ disrespectful.” He said. Clarke just laughed at him, Raven snickering along with her. 

“What’s disrespectful is you rudely interrupting me every time I try to take your order and apparently not knowing how to say ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ and expecting me to just sit here and take it.” Clarke bit back. Bellamy looked taken aback by what she’d said dropped his arms. 

“What are you talking about?” He asked. Clarke threw her arms up in exasperation.

“Every single day you come in here and I can’t even get through an entire ‘how can I help you’ before you just rudely go ‘caramel macchiato’” Clarke said, her voice going comically deep as she imitated him. “Then you practically  _throw_  your money at me and run off. Plus I have it on good authority that you have snatched your drink more than once.” She finished. Bellamy, for his part, had the decency to look ashamed.

“Oh. I didn’t realize.” He said in a small voice, bringing a hand up to the back of his neck. Clarke just shook her head.

“I don’t know what’s worse; being a dick on purpose, or not knowing how much of a dick you are.” She said in disbelief.

“Sorry I was such a dick, then. My boss is just super demanding and completely inept at his job, which is why I’m always on the phone and also why I’m always irritated. It doesn’t excuse my behavior, but I just want you to know that I’m not an asshole on purpose.” Bellamy said, sounding slightly pained that he had to apologize. 

Clarke and Raven exchanged a look and had a silent conversation, before turning back to him. “I accept your apology.” She said, and he gave her a grateful look. “On one condition.” She added. He gave her a look of confusion, motioning for her to go on. 

“You buy me a cup of coffee to make up for having to put up with you.” She said, getting an incredulous look in return. Raven laughed in a way that can only be described as a cackle behind her, before clapping Clarke’s shoulder and walking away to give them privacy.

“You want me to buy you a cup of coffee?” Bellamy asked, still confused. “But you work at a coffee shop. You probably get it for free.” Clarke raised her eyebrow at him, waiting for him to catch up. He stared at her for a few more moments, before it finally clicked. 

“Oh. You meant like a date.” Bellamy said slowly. Clarke nodded and bit back a smile at his confusion. It was pretty endearing. Bellamy’s hand went back to his neck and he was suddenly very interested in the tile floor. 

“So what do you say?” Clarke asked, putting her hands into the pockets of her apron. Bellamy picked his head up and gave her a small nod. 

“On one condition.” He said, echoing her words. She raised her eyebrow again. “Dinner, not coffee.” He said, earning a smile and a nod in return. His phone rang then, probably his boss having a meltdown about something or other.

“I have to take this.” Bellamy said, and Clarke nodded. He picked up the phone and was about to leave the shop, when Clarke tapped his shoulder and stuffed a napkin into his suit, before shooing him out. Bellamy didn’t get a chance to think about what that was about until after he’d gotten to work and the crisis had been managed (it turned out that his boss couldn’t find his favorite stationary). He reached into his pocket, pulled out the napkin, and laughed out loud. It was a note Clarke had scribbled to him.

_"Dear Ballpeen Hammer,_

_Here’s my number. You better call me or I’ll misspell your name for the rest of your life._

_Clarke"_

Bellamy took out his phone and dialed the number at the bottom of the note. 

"Ballpeen hammer?" He said, once she picked up.

"Raven gave me that one." Clarke replied, and Bellamy could hear the smile in her voice.

 

Clarke never did stop misspelling his name, though, but Bellamy stopped minding. 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry that ending is super weak but I could't figure out how to end it. Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it! Feedback is much appreciated, and feel free to talk to me on [my tumblr](http://johnlaurenses.tumblr.com)


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